Light
by Stone Jackal
Summary: She lit up his days. He would guard her nights.
1. Light

**Author's Notes:** I just recently came across _Leverage _and now I'm hooked. There's something about Parker and Eliot that sticks with me. I haven't seen all of the episodes yet, nor have the ones I have been entirely in sequence, so please forgive any inconsistencies.

...

He wakes, as usual, about an hour after crawling into bed. Pale limbs are strewn across his body, a cheek nuzzles into his chest and a hand makes fists in the undershirt he'd chosen to wear to sleep.

He never hears her coming, she simply arrives. Her movements are nimble and silent as she enters his territory and crawls onto the bed beside him. But it never fails that as the mattress sinks beneath her, he stirs and awakens enough to wrap his arms around her, cup his hand around her elbow and let his fingers thread through her hair. She sighs, deep and content, burrowing closer. Whatever nightmares that plagued her before, whatever monsters from the past stole her sleep were held at bay now. She was safe in his arms.

It's been their nightly ritual for some time now. She would steal into his room and into his bed, knowing that despite his growling; he won't send her packing. She knows he'll protect her, as he's promised, and she finds an easy comfort in his presence.

Some mornings, she's gone before he wakes, some he slips out from beneath her. Other days though, find them waking together, lying still and quiet, their voices hushed to whispers. He would sift his fingers through her hair, letting the strands fall from his hand to shower down on her luminescent skin. She would walk her fingers across his chest, tracing complicated escape routes or the simple stitching of his shirt. He likes those mornings best.

Their days haven't changed. They have their plans, their jobs, their roles. Nate will brood, drink, fight with Sophie and drink again. Sophie, in her turn, will pout, shop, fight with Nate and shop again. Hardison's attention is usually focused on his computers, emerging from his lair for a refill of his orange soda or to throw out a sarcastic jab before ducking back in.

It's his job to patch up their wounds, keep them safe and fed. She is their innocence, their light. She is the one able to roust Nate from his dark moods and coax Sophie from the mall and Hardison from his virtual world. She doesn't try to bring him from his kitchen though, preferring to scoot up onto the nearby counter and sit cross-legged, observing and cataloguing his every move.

He still tells her she's crazy, still blusters when they goad him, his reactions less aggravation and more amused now that he understands the game. She still conspires with Hardison, still asks blunt, sometimes inappropriate questions and pokes sharp sticks into old wounds, albeit unintentionally.

But their nights have changed to follow their new patterns. Where darkness falls, and their light wants someone to help her fight the shadows. She doesn't _need _him—he knows that—but he's proud she's reached out. He's grateful to be the one she has decided to place her trust in and is up to the challenge of keeping the night clear for her.

She lit up their days—his days. He would guard her nights.


	2. How it Began

It started after the job with that bastard Dalton Rand. That phony son of a bitch had picked Parker out of the audience and cold read her; torturing the thief with painful memories. Finding her on the floor of their office (and Nate's apartment), with that pain in her eyes and tear tracks on her cheeks, he had offered to do something for her that he had sworn off, something he'd shoved away to the farthest recesses of his mind; wishing to never pull it out again.

Nate had dismissed the bunch of them, saying they would pick up the plan in the morning. While he'd wanted to keep track of Parker, the little thief had disappeared from the apartment and into the night not long after they had explained the cold read to her. Instead, he decided to try for sleep, as evasive as it may be. But he wasn't able to sleep for long, finding himself drawn awake by the prickly feeling that someone was watching him.

It had started raining not long after Parker's exit from Nate's and the rain was still pelting down by the time he'd gotten home, having brewed into a full blown thunderstorm. Thunder crashed outside and he cracked one eye open slowly, his entire body tensing and preparing for the potential attack to come.

But it never came. Instead, the lightening snapped through the sky and the flash illuminated his room. That was how he spotted Parker crouched at the end of his bed.

"Parker?" He growled tiredly, pushing himself up to lean on his elbows, "What are you doing?"

"Sitting," She replied matter-of-factly, shrugging a shoulder. That shoulder of the over-sized sweatshirt she wore slipped free, leaving her pale skin bare, "Dripping," She squinted at him in the dark, as another tremble of thunder pounded outside, "You snore."

"Do not," He scowled, trying to tamp down his annoyance at being woken up and his confusion at her appearance with his default, grumpy, "What's goin' on Parker? You okay?"

The thief was silent, and the two of them listened to the rain stream down and hit against the window panes. Reaching the lamp, he flicked on the switch and found Parker at the end of his bed, tears trickling down her face. Eliot sat up, shoving his hair out of his face as his eyes roved over her, looking for any injuries. She responded to his staring by trying to curl further into her own arms.

He wanted to question her, wanted to demand why she was in his apartment, on his bed, refusing to speak and crying. Eliot had only seen Parker cry a few times in the years he had known her, and every time something caught in his chest and all he wanted to do was make it better. Hours ago (and now still, honestly), if she asked him to; that fake psychic would have disappeared without a trace.

But he couldn't. Go after her like that and Parker would run, dart out a window. The girl's nerves were already worn ragged and so instead, he asked gently, "That my sweater?"

Parker plucked at the USAF sweatshirt she wore, evading his eyes before bringing her gaze up to look directly into his, "I borrowed it. My stuff was soaked, since it's_ still_ raining."

As if to announce its existence, the thunder crashed again and Parker jumped in her seat, landing almost on Eliot's legs. And while Parker wasn't much for the physical, wasn't big on the touching (though she was comfortable with him – oddly enough, from the start – and was growing more so with Hardison), she scooted further up the bed until her hip bumped against his knee. The thief looked down at his blankets – a down filled comforter in a deep green color – and focused there, refusing to meet his eyes.

"Okay," His confusion was obvious and he hoped Parker would elaborate further. But she had turned her attention to picking at the fraying hem of his sweatshirt, "Parker, honey, I think –."

She didn't look up, but her shoulders started shaking harder. Eliot watched her try to curl into herself until he couldn't anymore and he lifted her into his lap. Parker curled instead against him, burying her face in his chest as she sobbed. Eliot rubbed her back, stroked his fingers against her scalp, trying to do something – anything that would lessen her sobs.

_I wanna kill him_, he couldn't help but think, resting his chin on top of Parker's head. Intelligently, he knew wishing many terrible things (and the wish was made more satisfying if they were by his own hands) on Rand wasn't going to help matters – even if it gave him somewhere to direct the rage. Emotionally; those pesky, squishy, internal things had him wanting to flatten whoever had made her cry.

They stayed that way until Parker cried herself out. When there hadn't been much movement or sound, aside from deep, even breathing, from the thief, Eliot craned around to peer down at her and found her asleep in his lap. He snorted softly to himself, but was unwilling to wake her, and Eliot carefully moved them both so he was slouched back into bed and she was tucked against him. Listening carefully, he waited a few moments for a sign of her waking. Hearing none, Eliot closed his own eyes and let sleep come to them both.

* * *

She had come for a little over two weeks after that first time, slipping in late at night and curling up against him. It was as if she knew nothing could touch her here; her nightmares and whatever plagued her from their daily life, from her past; she was safe from it here. Eliot would keep her safe.

She stopped showing up for a while, making sporadic visits at best, until Sophie came back and Nate went to prison. Their family had been shattered again; except this time, Nate wasn't a Skype call away. Nate couldn't pick up the phone and call them. He had been taken from them, by a method not of anyone's choosing.

She started coming nearly every day again, even after Nate was out; most days he would wake as she crawled in beside him. Though there were times when he was still awake when she arrived.

"What made you crack a beer bottle with your bare hands?" Eliot asked curiously, unfurling her fingers to take a closer look at the cuts streaking over each of her palms, "These are nasty Parker."

Once he'd caught sight of the ragged cuts on her hands, he had ushered her into the kitchen and sat her on one of the stools at his breakfast bar. He had never asked her how she'd found him; found his home in the refurbished old farmhouse he'd acquired outside of the city.

"I didn't mean too," She muttered, looking down at her hands as Eliot examined them carefully, "But I saw Hardison and Ashley and I just, I squeezed it too hard."

"Uh huh," Eliot didn't understand, but he didn't push. Instead, he ordered, "Don't move," and got up after the first aid kit he kept stocked. Once he'd returned to sit on the stool in front of her and opened the first aid kit in his lap, Parker started talking again,

"Sophie says I have feelings for Hardison," She informed him bluntly and he glanced up in time to see her shrug one shoulder, "Y'know, romantic ones."

"Sophie says huh?" Eliot kept his tone even and rifled through the first aid kit. Coming up with the alcohol swabs, he took her left hand in his and gently began cleaning out the cuts, "And why does Sophie say that?"

"Because when I saw Hardison with Ashley, I didn't like it," Parker proclaimed before flinching as he pressed too deep into one of the cuts, "_Ow_."

"Sorry," His touch remained firm but became softer, "Almost finished with this one."

Parker huffed, but didn't pull her hand away. Instead she remained silent except for pulling exaggerated faces while Eliot finished cleaning her cuts, "Well, the cuts aren't too deep. Doesn't look like you're gonna need stitches."

"Wonderful," She replied flatly and he squinted up at her, tossing the used alcohol swab on to the counter top beside her and reached back into the kit for a bandage.

Removing the paper backing from the bandage, Eliot smoothed it over the palm of her hand. Still holding her hand, he ran his thumb over the edges to make sure the bandage was stuck down until he realized he was practically caressing her hand. Clearing his throat, he dropped her hand and went back to business, picking up a new alcohol swab and catching her right hand in his. To distract her – or himself, he wasn't sure – Eliot asked, "What do you mean you didn't like it?"

"I don't know," She mumbled, quieter than before, and Eliot stilled,

"You know Parker," He insisted quietly, "You know."

"Because she's going to take him away, she's going to change things!" Parker blurted, ducking her head, a blush coloring her cheeks.

"What?" Still holding onto her hand, he crooked the fingers of his free hand beneath her chin and tipped her face up so she would look him in the eyes, "Parker, honey, wha-what do you mean?"

"If Hardison gets a girlfriend, that means things will _change_, it means things will be _different_," Parker's voice trembled some as she spoke, a tone Eliot had very rarely heard on her, one that made his protective instincts sit up and take note, "It means he won't have time for us anymore. She'll take him away, that's how it works."

"_Parker_," Eliot saw then what had spurned her earlier dislike of their client. Parker saw the woman's possible interest in their hacker as the ending knell of their little family, "Darlin', Hardison isn't going anywhere. Even if he were to get a girl, he's not. Okay?"

Parker shook her head fiercely, "No, _no_. _That's how it works_. They get a new boyfriend or a girlfriend or _whatever_ and it's over and they give you away, because they don't need you anymore. _They give you away_."

Her words hit him like a blow to the chest and Eliot was startled to see her eyes glistening suspiciously. Those instincts that twitched earlier were now roaring to the forefront and he wanted to do something—anything—everything to fix this. He also wanted names and addresses and the time to go and destroy those who had made her believe she was so easily abandoned. Chase them down and tear them apart, only to hand them back some of the pieces and watch them try unsuccessfully to make the bits fit back together as a whole again.

"Parker," He dropped the alcohol swab and stood to curve each of his hands around her face, holding her in place so she would look at him. Tears had begun to seep from her eyes, trailing down her cheeks, and he wiped them away with his thumbs, "We're not going to leave you, not Hardison, not Sophie, not Nate, and definitely not me. We won't leave you—_I won't leave you_. Nobody is going to give you away, not ever. You're stuck with us all darlin', we're more than a team. We're family. You understand me?"

She was nodding at his insistence, her tears falling more freely now, and then she crumbled forward. Eliot released her face and wrapped his arms around her, rocking her slowly as she slumped against him, her face pressed to his collarbone. Parker's knees tightened against his hips as she clung to him, as if she was trying to bury herself in him.

"You're okay, I've got you," Eliot promised, murmuring in her ear. One of his arms held her tightly against him; the other kept rubbing what he hoped were soothing patterns on her back, "I've got you."

They stayed that way for a long time, the minutes ticking off on the wall clock behind them, but neither seemed to notice. Parker sniffled after awhile, lifting her face from his neck. But she didn't pull away, instead laying her head on his shoulder, seeming to find comfort in the connection with him. And Eliot didn't mind, finding himself calming too as her breathing returned to normal.

"Sorry," Parker mumbled quietly after a while, pulling away from him. But Eliot kept hold of her, his hands chafing up and down her arms,

"Nothing to be sorry for," He informed her decidedly, his tone saying he would hear no argument from her, "Just remember that no one's leaving. Hell darlin', Hardison bought a Nate's building to keep us close. So you don't need to worry, alright?" Parker gave a watery chuckle at that, nodding a few times. Eliot gave her a small smile, one she managed to return, "Let me just finish patching you up and you'll be good as new."

She brought her bare hand between them, holding it palm up for his inspection. Only then did Eliot let go of her, and only then to pick out a bandage from his kit. This time, he smoothed the edges of the bandage into place with both of his thumbs, holding her small hand between both of his.

"Eliot?" He looked up from her hand, and she curled her lips into a smile again, "Thank you."

"Always," Was his instant reply, and Parker threw her arms around his neck for a quick squeeze.

* * *

It was then that he had realized; somehow he had become Parker's safe place, the person she could show those emotions to. It was as though she didn't feel the need to hide with him. And Eliot was pleased with that, grateful for the trust she had placed in him, feeling a kind of pride in that. He wanted to be that person, wanted to be that place for her. He would continue to be that person, to be that place for her, for as long as she needed him.

But there was something else too; something deeper and potentially dangerous bubbling up from within him. Something that sparked in his chest when she smiled for him; and curled warmly in his belly when she curled contentedly against his side. Something he couldn't yet describe, but he knew it was coming.

* * *

**Author's Notes:** Alrighty then folks, chapter two. A few minor points of explanation; I've always been stuck on how, while Sophie makes a big deal out of Parker touching people, Parker has always been cool with touching and being touched by Eliot, even from the beginning. It might be my particular brand of ship-colored glasses, but what have you.

Also, I know _Pretzels_ was coined from the conversations between Sophie and Parker and between Parker and Hardison in the _Double Blind Job_, and while I have much love for Hardison, I'm not feeling the _Pretzels _romance. As BFFs, Hardison and Parker are (for me) a winning combo. Again, this could be due to my partaking of the E/P Kool-Aid, but I digress. If marks have been missed, please let me know. :~)


	3. Role Reversal

_**Author's**_** Notes:** _Many thanks for all of the wonderful reviews. :~) _

* * *

And then the roles were reversed. She had come for him, one night in DC. After his past had smacked them all in the face; after he'd reverted to the person – monster – he had been trying so hard to bury away, she had come for him.

He had gone to the hotel gym to try and work out some of the frustrations that had built, and in an effort to box away the past sins that tore at his barely patched soul. He had tried hard to put away the person he had once been – the monster he had been – all under the creation of one Damien Moreau. The worst thing he had ever done; he had done for Damien Moreau.

Those memories had to be shoved away, stopped up and blocked off, until they didn't plague him all the time. He had been able to do it before; had thought he was becoming a better man, under Nate's direction and with Hardison's and Sophie's friendships and whatever it was that he was building with Parker. Maybe not one of the good guys, but no longer one of the worst.

It had been so _easy _though, to slip back into those old patterns, so _easy_ to return to the person – the monster – he had used to be. He'd felt it the moment he picked up the gun from the concrete floor, had known it the moment he'd ran across the opening between their cover and the door; gun blazing. He had seen a flicker of it in Nate's eyes as the mastermind and their Italian spy ran to safety. The part that scared him the most, the part that wouldn't let him go; it wasn't what he had done. It wasn't regret and guilt in the carnage – yes, carnage – he'd left of Moreau's men, strewn over the warehouse. It was the ease in which he'd done it. That was what caused that fear; that fear of himself, of what he was capable of. Of how easily he could make the switch.

He wasn't sure if he even _had _Hardison's friendship anymore. He had stood there, working overtime to show Moreau no emotion; no hint into his connection with the other man, while Moreau sent Hardison sailing towards the pool, still handcuffed to the chair. He had counted in his head, each second precious, in between convincing Moreau of his motives and maintaining his stance as who he had been before. He had put his friend in danger; he'd lied to all of them. The very thing he'd gotten so angry with Sophie for doing; he had done himself.

The gym wasn't doing it for him; wasn't calling his focus the way he needed then. As it stood, his legs were stiffening and sore, more than a few layers of skin rubbed away from his slide across the floor. His arms ached from a few near-misses of the other men's shots and his hands were cramped from gripping the guns. Intending to hole himself up in his hotel room with the bottle he'd swiped from the hotel bar, he had trudged up the stairs and into his room.

"Hi," Her voice chirped, and Eliot's head shot up, his abused body poised for an attack. Instead, Parker sat cross-legged on his bed, smiling and waving at him, her practice locks in her lap.

"Parker," He growled, shoving the gym bag from his shoulder and carelessly onto the floor. He wasn't in the mood for games tonight, "What're you doin' in here?"

"Waiting for you," She replied, like the answer to his question was obvious. Studying him with appraising eyes, she asked, "Did you go to the gym? You're all sweaty."

"Excellent observations there," Eliot huffed, giving the duffel bag a solid kick for good measure. It didn't alleviate any of his tension, didn't make him feel any better, all it did was make his foot sore and Parker squint at him. He wouldn't turn to look back at her though, instead turned his back to her, braced both arms on the chest-high shelving unit just inside his hotel room door and asked roughly, "What're you doin' in here?"

He could hear the clank of her locks landing on the bedside table, but not any movement from her. Instead, she suddenly was beside him, poking a finger into his shoulder, "I thought – I thought maybe you wouldn't want to be alone."

Eliot sighed, feeling something else bubbling up behind the aggression, something softer and much more appealing than the evil he'd been trying to bury,

"Parker, I don't think you want to be around me right now," He said seriously, glancing up to see her reaction. When her brow furrowed and a puzzled expression fell over her face, he tried to explain, "I'm not good company darlin'."

"Why?" She canted her head to the left, confusion on her face and in her voice, "Because you're all sweaty and smelly?"

Eliot closed his eyes, letting his head hang down past his shoulders again, unable to explain the rioting emotions swirling within him. He almost lost himself to those thoughts again, until Parker's fist socked lightly into his shoulder, and he peered up at her.

"Fine, you get a shower and I'll come back later," Parker petted his shoulder this time, lightly brushing at it as if she was clearing lint from the fabric, "I saw something in the gift shop I wanted to check out."

She smiled her _gonna steal something_ smile and gave his shoulder one last pat before she left as quietly as she had arrived. In spite of the day, in spite of his rolling mind and his internal conflict, he actually chuckled as she left and, following her instructions to shower, headed for the bathroom.

And true to her word, as he lay in the hotel room bed, unable to get comfortable, Parker was soon back. Sliding in under the covers, she sat beside him. Childish he knew, but Eliot feigned sleep, not ready to talk about what was going on in his head or what had happened in the warehouse. And Parker let him have that; she settled beside him on her side, propped her elbow in the pillow and her head in her hand. Slender, agile fingers worked lightly over his hair, a caress meant to comfort, as her voice whispered softly, clouded with emotions she normally masked, "You're not the only who's done things they're not proud of."

* * *

And another soon after; this time in San Lorenzo. They had just _stolen a country_; that one would take some getting used to. But not more so than the knowledge that Damien would likely (hopefully) spend the rest of his days locked up in a little cell in the tombs. Moreau would no longer be a specter, a shadow hovering not far off, as evidence of his bloodied past. There was something reassuring in that fact, something that made him feel as though a weight had been lifted from his shoulders. He felt lighter, as if putting Moreau away had somehow redeemed him, just a little, in his own eyes.

"What'cha thinking about?" Parker's voice asked in his ear, and only years of steeled nerves and training kept him from flinching at her sudden appearance. He had been sitting on the bed in his hotel room, staring blankly out the window, lost in his thoughts. Looking sideways, he found Parker kneeling beside him and watching his face intently.

"How relived I am that Moreau's locked away," Eliot answered honestly, letting the corners of his mouth curl upwards, and Parker broke into a smile.

"Good," She knocked her shoulder into his arm and grinned at him happily. She had been doing that more lately, been the one to initiate contact between them; whether it be standing closer to him, brushing against him as she walked, sitting up close beside him. He'd noticed, but never commented on it. He'd simply responded in kind; curling a hand around her shoulder and running it down the length of her arm to bring her along with him. Eliot found himself more comfortable with her beside him. It wasn't something he could explain. All he understood was that he liked the sensation, liked the calm her presence brought him, even if he covered it with his usual gruff nature.

Her voice broke into his thoughts, stopping him from pondering the origins of those feelings any closer.

"So I was thinking," She grinned at him again, that _gonna steal things_ smile back in her eyes, "You wanna go steal things with me?"

He laughed, something he couldn't have pictured himself doing just a few hours ago, and nodded, "Where to first?"

* * *

It all changed after the mountain, after the cave (blessing or curse), and they both had had to examine those curious stirrings that had been fizzing within them and between them for a while.

She was already in his house by the time he got home, curled up on his couch with her legs crossed beneath her as she flicked through the television channels. He didn't bother asking how she had gotten in – likely the same way she had all of the other times he arrived home or woken up or turned around and found her there. Instead, he dropped onto the couch beside her and stretched his arm along the back of the cushions,

"Parker."

Glancing sideways at him, she grinned, "Eliot."

They settled back to watch what she had chosen after she had _finally _stopped flipping (_"The History of Chocolate Making? Really Parker?" "Shhh!"_) They had been watching for about an hour when, during the commercial break, Parker leaned into Eliot and kissed him.

The kiss was quick and rough and over too soon before she bounced back into her seat and stared at the television screen. Eliot sat back, stunned and staring straight ahead but seeing nothing.

While she tried to keep her eyes focused on the television screen, Parker couldn't help but bring twitching fingers up to touch her lips. The feeling that had buzzed through them she had kissed Eliot – she had never felt anything like that before. It had been a crackling thought in the back of her head, one that had been growing for a while now. She had thought that actually _doing _it would make the thought go away. It wasn't working that way.

"Parker," Eliot's baritone rumbled, low and enough to make her shiver. Wondering how he could cause such a reaction with just his voice, just saying her name, Parker turned the tiniest bit – just enough to look him in the eyes.

It was her turn to be stunned though, as Eliot's hands curved around her jaw and pulled her back to him. He kissed her this time, slanting his mouth over hers. One hand slid through her hair to cup around the back of her head, angling her as he pleased.

Parker moaned in the back of her throat as his tongue slipped past her lips. Needing to touch him, she crawled from her seat and into his lap, winding her arms around his shoulders. Squeezing in, she hooked her legs over Eliot's hips and pressed closer.

The need for air made them pull apart but instead of pulling away, Eliot moved his attention to her neck. He grazed his lips along her skin, working his way from her jaw to her shoulder. Sighing pleasurably, Parker arched her neck to give him better access to keep doing what he was doing. And he knew what he was doing, each pass of his lips and movement of his fingers causing sparks in her head and a liquid heat to spread through her body.

"_Eliot_," Parker murmured softly, spearing her fingers into his hair and holding on. He nipped lightly at her collarbone before soothing the spot with his tongue. She tugged at his hair, bringing his face back up to hers and crushing her mouth to his. Manipulating his lips with hers, they clung until the requirement for oxygen became too pressing to ignore.

Parker leaned her head into the crook of Eliot's neck, trying to catch her breath. His hands kept stroking over her back, his head resting back against the couch cushion as he mumbled,

"What're we doin'?"

"You have to ask?" She grinned into his shoulder and Eliot snickered,

"No questions there darlin'. But what—what made you kiss me?"

Parker slowly lifted her face from his neck and looked up at him with a puzzled expression as she turned the question back on him, "Why did you kiss me?"

Eliot squinted at her, "I asked you first."

Sighing, Parker scrunched her face up at him while she considered her answer, "I wanted to. Been thinking about it for a while."

"Me too," He muttered before he realized, and he looked up to meet her eyes, "Really?"

She drew her bottom lip in and worried it between her teeth as she nodded. The vulnerable gleam in Parker's eyes had those instincts rumbling forward, and he tightened his arms around her, hugging her. She leaned her head back onto his shoulder and threaded her arms around him from beneath his. Heaving another sigh, Parker asked quietly,

"What do we do?"

"I—I don't know," Eliot propped his chin against the crown of her head and inhaled deeply, "Do—do we want to do it again?"

Chortling, Parker replied simply, "Duh."

Eliot chuckled too, running the pads of his fingertips up and down the slope of her neck, "Right," His fingers still moving, he sobered and repeated, "So what do we do?"

Parker lifted her head from his shoulder and pulled back to see his face, "We don't say anything. Not until we figure out what this," She paused, squeezed her arms around him, "Is. Then we'll tell them."

"Right," Eliot nodded and smiled, "Okay."

"Okay," She nodded back at him, a small smile budding on her face, before she gently pressed her lips to his. This kiss was at complete odds with their first, sweet and soft where the other had been quick and hard.

* * *

And they had kept it to themselves, trying to figure out what exactly they were.

For Parker, being wrapped in Eliot's arms made her feel the safest she ever had. Waking up to find him lying beside her was something she actually looked forward to. She had never felt like this with anyone else before. She hadn't had this connection with anyone, a pressing _need_ to be close to them, to let those walls down and just _be close_ to them.

The feelings were the same for Eliot. He hadn't been in a relationship (a _real _relationship) since Aimee – had avoided them really. He had stuck to one night stands; nights where everyone knew the stakes and no one was banking on forever. But this wasn't the case now; he wanted to be in a relationship, he wanted to be in one with Parker. He didn't want anyone but her. And that in itself was enough of a change for him for it to be daunting.

They soon fell into a pattern; a routine of sorts. This pattern was not without its bumps however.


	4. Adjustment Period

_**Author's Notes: **Thank you to everyone who has reviewed, favorited and followed this story. I always love finding those in my inbox._

_I'm on the hunt for a beta, to help keep my grammar, spelling, punctuation and characterizations in check. If anyone is interested, please send me a PM. :~)_

* * *

It almost seemed like they had figured it out, had made their way towards normalcy; an odd place for either of them to land. And then Hardison was kidnapped and almost taken from them entirely, and their normalcy snagged around them

Parker had been distant ever since they had pulled Hardison from that coffin, a day that made him shudder each time he remembered it. Just thinking about it made his stomach curl into a rigid knot and his hands into fists tight enough that his knuckles cracked and lost all color. He could still picture digging frantically at that last layer of dirt that lay over the coffin and hauling Hardison from the ground.

She had spent that job on the phone with Hardison, hearing each crack in their best friend's voice, each terrified word, each gasp for air. Parker had listened to Hardison's claustrophobic panic and had had to talk the hacker through his breathing, to keep him somewhat calm and help him push back the looming hysteria until they could rescue him.

Eliot could still see Parker trembling in the cemetery as they pulled Hardison free of the coffin and each he, Sophie and Nate had taken turns in hugging their hacker, a rush of relief at his being alive and safe. Parker had shut down, unable to be that close, unable to let the emotions that were pounding through her system overtake her. She didn't know how to deal with everything going on inside of her. And so, she retreated.

Eliot had tried to do what he could to bring her back around, make her smile again. Nothing seemed to be helping. He tried cooking for her, tried offering to spar with her, tried getting her to teach him how to crack a safe, tried giving her space; anything to bring his Parker back. She would smile at him, but that light wouldn't reach her eyes, not like it had before.

She was pulling away from him physically too; had stopped arriving at his place at nights. Or if she did, she put space between them, wriggling away if he would reach for her. Frustrated and worried, after his other attempts had failed; he finally confronted her. She had maintained a hard front, one that had finally cracked when he pushed.

"I can't lose you Eliot!" Parker blurted out suddenly, the look in her eyes burning through him, "I wouldn't be able to come back from that; I don't know how."

"Parker," Eliot's answer was automatic as he reached for her, but she avoided his hands and curled her arms around her middle, "You're not gonna lose me."

"We take big risks every day, especially you," She insisted ardently, looking small and lost and scared all at once. This one, almost loosing Hardison, had brought back those old fears to the front of her mind, just when she had managed to push them away. She had been slowly managing to be comfortable in change, in letting those walls down. Now all she wanted was to hastily slap those supposedly protective pieces back into place, "Or don't you remember getting a piece of a carnival ride in the face a few weeks back?"

"So what are you going to do?" He asked quietly, loosely crossing his arms over his chest, "Take off; start back up on your own again? Can you do that? Or is just leavin' me gonna be enough to protect yourself?"

"I don't know," She stopped pacing, instead trying to shrink into herself, "I don't know how to do this. I was so scared that he was gonna die. And – and it made me think about what would happen if he actually did, or if you – you did, and I can't."

This time when he reached for her, Parker let Eliot catch her and tug her into his arms, "Baby, it's gonna be okay. Hardison's fine, we're all safe."

"Yeah, this time," Parker exclaimed as she thumped her forehead against his shoulder, "_This_ time he's okay. _This _time we got him back. But that doesn't mean it's going to work _every time_."

"You're right," Eliot tucked one arm around her shoulders, his other hand chafing circular patterns over her back, "But even if there is another time, we're still going to go after him. Same way we'd go after you, same way you'd come lookin' for me," His voice rumbled low in her ear, while the vibrations through his chest were strangely soothing and she tucked her face into his neck, "I wish I could say that there wouldn't _be _a next time, but I can't. But I can tell you that I'll always do everything I can to come home in one piece."

Sniffling, Parker lifted her face so she could see him. Something in his chest twisted at the sight of the tear tracks streaking down her face, "Promise?"

"I promise," He answered solemnly and tipped his forehead to meet hers. Parker nodded slowly, tightening her arms around him as she murmured,

"Me too."

"Good," Eliot gave a small smile, which Parker tentatively returned, and he lifted his chin to press his lips gently to hers. Parker's hand came up behind Eliot's head and tangled in his hair, urging him closer and kissing him back fiercely. He let her take control of the kiss, feeling her need for that control; that need for comfort in her every movement.

She backed him up against the wall in his kitchen, pressing herself impossibly closer. When he felt one of her legs rise, her knee bump against his hip, Eliot lifted her from the floor and Parker slipped her legs around his waist, clinging to him.

Holding her up, Eliot carried her upstairs and into his bedroom. He lowered them both to the bed, careful not to place all of his weight on her and crush her. But Parker dragged him in, pulling him off balance and on top of her, before trying to tug off his t-shirt. Eliot lifted himself just enough to allow her to slip it off of him before he gathered her in both arms and flipped them, so she lay on top of him. But as Parker tried to keep undressing him, Eliot stopped her, hugging her to him,

"Eliot, what—what are you doing?" Parker stilled over him, pulling back enough to see his face, "Don't you want to—don't you want me?"

"Of course I do," Cupping her face in his hand, he swept his thumb over her cheekbone, "But not tonight baby; neither of us are in the right headspace right now."

"Fine," Parker didn't understand his motives, not completely. She made to pull herself free of his arms, but he wouldn't release her, "Why are you still holding on then?"

"Just because we're not going to _sleep_ _together_, doesn't mean we can't _sleep_ together," Eliot tried to explain, only to see the confusion on her face, "I don't want you to leave."

She thought she was getting his meaning, knowing him as well as she did, after having spent many a night beside him. But navigating the emotional nuances was still so _new _and confusing for her that Parker needed him to clarify, "You don't want me to _do_ anything?"

"I want you to let me hold you," He admitted quietly, and Parker felt something warm sluice through her body. She slipped down into his arms again, resting her head on his chest and held onto him tightly, "Just get some sleep baby. I've got you."

* * *

Things had evened out after they had come through that. Each Parker and Eliot had to adjust to sharing their lives so intimately with another person. Both were loners outwardly, yet each craved that connection and affection with another person more intently than their teammates would have guessed.

Each kept their masks in place, stopping up the cracks so no one could see the broken person beneath. To be open to another person, to both give up that control over themselves and to assume that same responsibility for another, to depend on another person so completely was terrifying to them both.

Parker's first instinct had always been to run; be fast and small, nimble and agile, and always work alone. It had been her way, ingrained through years of loneliness and of being the only person she'd been able to count on, to disappear before the possibility of emotional pain arose.

Eliot buried everything; shoved it all down as deep as he could send it until he felt nothing at all. The guilt, anger and self-loathing had culminated in a writhing mass that had nearly destroyed him.

They had definitely hit a few snags along the way.

Parker hadn't been happy with the idea of _Nurse Gail_, and had slipped away from Hardison's in-depth description of Hardy/Parker 2000's features to tell him so. Gail actually _was_ a nurse, a private one who worked for a guy who'd owed him a favor. The nurse had been dismissed and Parker had taken over helping him patch himself up.

And then Eliot hadn't been thrilled when a job called for Parker to play Hardison's girl, and she had landed a forceful kiss on the hacker to sell the bit. Parker had jumped on him as soon as they were alone after that, kissing him sweetly while her hands framed his face. It hadn't felt right, she'd informed him, not what she was looking for and she had missed the scratch of his stubble against her chin.

He had had a rough time with that job all around; another round of memories that spun nightmares that robbed him of his sleep, shaking him awake. But Parker was always there, right beside him and coaxing him back from the darkness that haunted him, distracting him from those hovering shadows.

They were stronger together, their connection a stabilizing force between them. Parker was less restless, less reckless, but no less of an adrenaline junkie. The risks she took were just less unnecessary. Eliot was lighter; less weighed down, less angry. The growl remained, but there was less real aggression behind it, the hair trigger to his temper having grown.

* * *

They had left at the same time, but separately. Their last job had been completed hours before and the team had parted ways after their usual end-of-the-job-dinner. Nate had gone back to his apartment and Sophie with him, Hardison had been muttering about leading a hoard (of what, Eliot knew better than to ask) and, as usual, Parker disappeared without an explanation or using the door. For Eliot, he was headed for home and sleep.

He got home to find her already there, not that it was surprising; considering her alleyway and fire escape shortcuts. It was nice though, to get home and find her Converse kicked off by the door and her jacket hung up in the closet. He stepped out of his own boots beside her sneakers, grimacing as he peeled off his jacket and his irritated ribs protested the movement. Making his way through his place in the dark with ease, he carefully pulled off the rest of his clothes and drug himself into the shower. With the hot water turned up high enough to nearly be scalding, he stood beneath the spray and let it beat down on his weary, abused muscles.

By the time some of the knots seemed to be unwinding, the bathroom mirror was fogged and the water started running cold and he turned off the spray. Once he was dry, he dragged on the clean pair of sweat pants (dark blue and worn soft with age, his favorite ones) that she'd left for him on the sink and shuffled into his (now their) bedroom.

Parker was already tucked into the bed, curled up on the side she had claimed as hers (the one closest to the window), with the blankets pulled up to her nose.

Eliot flipped back the covers on his side (between her and the door, which suited him fine) and sank into the mattress. Releasing a pleased sigh, he folded his hands behind his head and closed his eyes. A small hand slid over his chest, fingertips stroking his skin. Her head fit onto his shoulder and her leg nestled between his.

"Hey," She whispered by his ear and then he felt a pair of lips – a kiss – pressed to the underside of his jaw.

"Hey," He rasped, his eyes still shut, and closed his arms around her. One of his hands cupped her elbow, while the other rested on her hip.

Parker nuzzled her face into his shoulder and fanned her fingers over his ribs, listening for any hitch in his breathing, "You okay?" She asked as her fingers stole just below the waistband of his sweats, "That dude with the stick got a couple of nasty looking hits in."

_That dude with the stick_ had actually been an angry ex-con (it's a very distinctive hunch) with a length of two by four. The bastard had gotten a couple of whacks in before Eliot had taken him down.

"It's not that bad," Eliot mumbled and she snorted before pressing another kiss to his jaw, "Just need to sleep it off."

"A whole ninety minutes worth?" Parker teased, but snuggled into him, wrapping her arm around his middle.

Inhaling deeply, Eliot adjusted them both so he had her flush against him and sighed out the exhale, "Sweet dreams."

"No bug bites Sparky."

* * *

It was a rare night out; no job, no client, no mark, no team; just he and Sophie strolling through the gallery and pausing to inspect the pieces. It had been a few days since their last job and he really wasn't in a rush to pick out another one. So tonight, there was no pretending to be anyone they weren't (well, not that their invitations had their _real _names on them, they're not _crazy_). Just a _normal_, relaxing date.

And the moment he thought _relaxing_, he knew he had jinxed it. As Sophie waxed on about brushstrokes and perspective, Nate tried to push away the niggling idea that something was soon going to happen. His _feeling_ gave no indication whether the something was good or bad. Just _something_.

"Oh Nate, look at _this_," Sophie said breathlessly, veering from their path to the right to absorb (her word) the art.

Nate was looking; he was just looking in the wrong direction. Instead of the artwork, he was peering across the gallery (unobtrusively, of course) at a man of about average height or a little less, with shoulder length brown hair tied back neatly. A well tailored suit was stretched over the man's broad shoulders. Sophie could riff off the brands, but all Nate could see was that the suit was well made.

"Nate," Sophie's annoyed voice met his ear, the tone she used when he wasn't paying attention (honestly, he heard that tone fairly often), "What are you squinting at? It's definitely not the art work."

"That's Eliot," Nate observed before taking a sip from his drink, a champagne flute he'd plucked from the tray of the first waiter he'd seen (not his usual, but when in Rome) and Sophie forgot the artwork herself, craning to see.

"Who's that with him?" Sophie wondered aloud, the two of them watching closely as a tall blonde woman in a pink dress stepped up close to the hitter and toyed with the lapels of his suit jacket.

A rare smile warmed the hitter's face and his hand curled around the woman's wrist where it still rested on his chest.

Sophie smiled too and reached for Nate's shoulder, intending to pull the mastermind away and leave Eliot to his date in peace. But Nate had other ideas.

* * *

"Okay, what about that one?"

Parker carefully considered the exhibit he'd indicated for a moment, twirling her finger through the hair at the end of her side-swept ponytail, before she threaded her arm through his, "Easy."

As she leaned into him, pointing to various points of the painting and the security features (subtly, of course), Eliot smirked. And then the smirk became a true smile when at the next possibility, she snorted and replied, "Taking candy from a baby."

Moments later, Parker scrunched her face up as she puzzled over that statement, "Y'know, I never got that saying. Why would anyone want to take candy from a baby? That's just mean."

Eliot's smile widened, and she stepped in front of him and tugged at the lapels of the suit jacket he'd worn to blend in with the crowd. Seeming to give the train of thought a little more consideration, she shrugged one bare, pale-skinned shoulder,

"Unless it was going to hurt them, I guess," Pursing her lips almost comically, Parker sighed through her nose, and then realized Eliot was trying to cover a laugh. Rather unsuccessfully, judging by the slight rumbling in his chest as he tried to stifle the chuckle. Tugging again at his lapels, she eyed him with feigned seriousness, "You think I'm funny?"

He winked at her, curling one hand over her forearm from where it rested on his chest, "I think you're delightful darlin'."

Parker pulled a disapproving face, scrunching her brow and squinting at him. Giving a firm tug on each of his lapels, she pulled Eliot in against her and dropped a kiss to his smiling lips.

The laughing stopped as she kissed him, obediently parting his lips as the tip of her tongue flitted against them. Eliot stroked his hand over her arm from where her hand and forearm rested on his chest to her elbow and back. She leaned in closer to him, sliding one hand from his jacket to rest on his shoulder. Eliot's fingers tightened on the other, his thumb rolling over her hand from her knuckles to her wrist.

As the kiss broke, Parker leaned back and lifted a hand to his mouth, gently buffing a lingering smear of lip gloss from his bottom lip with her thumb as she asked breathlessly,

"Wanna get out of here?"

* * *

As the couple turned to leave (hand in hand, Sophie noted), Eliot's date had moved more into Nate's line of sight. Shock slackened his grasp on his glass, and Nate fumbled to recover his grip. The champagne flute now firmly in hand, the mastermind looked from the exiting couple to Sophie to ask,

"Is that?"

"Parker?" Sophie finished the question for him, her hands twisted in both the shoulder seam and just below the elbow of Nate's jacket. Bewildered, her gaze went from Nate to the swish of pink that was the final sight of the couple's exit. As the door closed behind them, Nate and Sophie looked back to each other with wide eyes.

"Eliot and Parker," Sophie murmured, her voice suggesting she was baffled by the sentence.

"Together," Nate added in much the same tone.


End file.
